


Music

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: Established Relationship, Inspired by Art, Multi, Music, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter treasures the moments when he gets to see Neal's true heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/gifts).



> This was written for [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[**kanarek13**](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/) for [](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**fandom_stocking**](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/), and it was inspired by her [beautiful artwork](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/10368.html). Also, today is her birthday, so happy birthday and thank you for your awesome contributions to fandom!

[](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/10368.html)   
"Music" by [](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/profile)[**kanarek13**](http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/)

Peter understands that life for Neal is, in many ways, a performance. He knows that Neal's ability to perform flawlessly with no stage and no script is the reason he can blend into undercover roles as if it were his everyday life, and he appreciates that ability when it helps to serve the cause of justice. He also knows that stepping off of the invisible stage is one of the most difficult things for Neal to do. When Neal's performing, he can do almost anything because he can make himself believe that his own feelings, his own sense of self aren't on the line. Choosing to end the performance is, for Neal, one of the biggest risks he can take.

It takes years, but Peter watches as Neal learns that he can choose to end the performance. When Peter has his hands on Neal, when they're in bed together, when El's hair is a dark curtain moving over Neal's body, Neal gives them his real self. They wouldn't have it any other way. Still, even at home, even just the three of them, Neal will slip into the safety of acting like a polite guest with his clothes that are too sharp to be casual and his manners that are too perfect to be real.

Peter understands that it's only when he's truly happy, truly content, that Neal will choose to leave the performance behind. It's a joy, then, to stand in the living room, distracted from his home maintenance project, and watch Neal lose himself in music. He's sitting on the couch, his legs sprawled casually open, one elbow leaning on the end table as he holds the headphones against his ear. His eyes are closed, his face open and full of emotion from whatever he's listening to. There's a CD on the couch beside him, the plastic wrapping sitting loose on top of the jewel case, most likely purchased at the afternoon event Neal had attended with June.

Peter feels like he's intruding on something private as Neal's body moves minutely, rhythmically, leaning in toward the music like a plant to sunlight. He feels like he's intruding but he can't pull himself away from the beautiful sight of Neal, the real Neal, naked and wide open despite his neat suit and tie. He doesn't even try to pull himself away because he understands that Neal chose this, that he came home-- _home_ \--to make himself vulnerable in a safe place.

Peter doesn't know what Neal is listening to because the light reflecting off of the plastic conceals the print on the CD's jewel case, but he doesn't think that any symphony could stir him the way Neal does in this quiet moment of honesty. Peter hears footsteps and looks up to see El coming down the stairs. He catches her eye, and her face softens as she sees Neal, too. She walks up to stand next to Peter and, hand in hand, they watch until Neal sets the headphones down and opens his eyes, blinking as if he'd just awoken from a dream.

"Hi," he says, his voice unusually soft. "Sorry, I heard this earlier, and I just had to listen to it again." He smiles, not the glittering con man grin but the small, genuine smile that feels like a gift. "It's so beautiful," he says, "it reminds me of us."


End file.
